


Made To Measure

by Belladonna_Q



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fanart, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Milking, Possessive Hannibal, Post-Season/Series 03, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Q/pseuds/Belladonna_Q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season 3 Hannibal fic.<br/>-----------------------<br/>What was he <em>doing</em>? What was <em>wrong</em> with him? He could run. Now. Turn and follow the opposite street. Head back in to the safety and warmth of the café. Make a phone call to… Who?</p><p>No, he was here. Following this man, a dangerous man, a man who had already cost him dearly. What would the final price be? And was he willing to pay?<br/>-----------------------<br/>Art collaboration with <a href="http://reapersun.tumblr.com/">Reapersun</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made To Measure

They’d been waiting a long time, and the rain had started up once again. It was leisurely, but left them gradually soaked, which in turn left Will chilled and exhausted. He stood on the street corner, directly behind Hannibal, while he watched the seemingly endless stream of rain-slicked cars and rushing people slide by them. He pulled his coat around his body tighter, turning the collar up against his neck, a weak attempt at keeping himself warm and dry.

Hannibal for his part, was seemingly unaffected by the rain. A sentinel watching with predator focus up the road. Will glanced as a heavy bead of rain dripped from the man’s chin, before averting his eyes to the sidewalk.

Will didn’t know what, or who, they were waiting for and jolted as he felt a light touch to his wrist. Instinctively, he pulled away and watched Hannibal withdraw his hand.

“Coffee?”

Will stared, blinking through the rain at Hannibal’s slightly amused face, before witnessing it slide into something more neutral.

Numb, Will simply nodded slowly. “Sure,” he replied, readjusting the strap of his bag he’d slung over his shoulder.

“I know of a place,” Hannibal said casually, before slipping into the street.

“Kinda figured you did,” Will replied as he fell in line.

Hannibal’s choice was up the road, two blocks up and in the very direction he had been staring. Down a narrow street they came to a café. It was noisy; busy for weekday evening but this was Stockholm, and what did Will know about the Swedes and their nightlife?

The small shop was thankfully warm and the thick-framed glasses Will had been given by Hannibal fogged immediately, but he didn’t rush to wipe and clean them dry. They hung their coats at the front, Hannibal hanging his own bag of items on the rack while Will chose to keep his with him, clutched to his side. He supposed Hannibal was a bit more observant of others’ intentions and certainly far more –

Will found himself jumping straight out of his thought as a hand connected to his body, subtly directing him.

“By the window,” Hannibal murmured and Will corrected his path, finding a table in the corner against the large glass pane.

“A little paranoid?” He muttered, swiping the menu from the table and bringing it up to his face. It was useless, he knew, not understanding Swedish but it gave him a distraction.

He could feel Hannibal’s gaze even through the paper in his hands. “Do you blame me?” Came the response.

Will kept his eyes firmly on the menu. “Are we …waiting for someone?” He asked nonchalantly as his eyes skimmed over the words, outwardly unconcerned.

“A friend.” Was the response.

From Hannibal, that could mean anyone.

A waiter appeared at their table as if summoned, pad and pen in hand.

“En kopp kaffe, två,” Hannibal said immediately.

“Vill du ha socker? Mjölk?”

Hannibal handed the man his menu, “Det är bra så.”

“Okej, kaffet kommer snart,” the waiter reached, plucking the menu from Will’s hand. Barrier now gone, Will rested his hands on the edge of the table. He studied a passerby out the window with idle intent.

“You seem anxious, Will,” said Hannibal, creasing a napkin at his side unnecessarily. “A bit more so than in the past few weeks.”

“I… don’t mean to be,” Will replied quietly, truthfully, watching a small girl struggle with a purple umbrella, the wind picking up in a sudden gust. “Just tired,” which was also true. He was just tired, so tired. Not just the traveling, but this unnamable sensation. Of being persistently chilled and soaked down to his bones. Of being not just being sodden, but ruined. Wrecked.

There was this constant phantom ache of being still drenched by the ocean, body struggling for breath, skin filthy and briny from the sea as he fought against a crushing current—

“We’re out, Will.”

Once more shaken from his thoughts, Will nodded, staring into a black puddle. “Yeah I know. I know.” It didn’t sound convincing.

“I suppose this rain isn’t particularly helping,” at that, Hannibal gave a theatrical look to the sky.

“Not really, no.”

“We’re safe. You just need to trust me, Will.”

Will simply acknowledged with another nod.  

Their silence stretched on, which Hannibal seemed unmoved by.

Their coffees arrived, and Will eyed his with reluctant anticipation. “So,” He said slowly, breaking their silence, not being able to stand it any longer. “What are we doing Hannibal? Here? In this place?”

“As you’ve said. We’re waiting.” Hannibal looked back to the window, eyes flicking up to the still murky and pregnant rainclouds. His index finger slowly, perhaps involuntarily, stroked down the handle of his cup in a leisurely, almost suggestive manner. Will’s face heated as he watched, feeling as if he were witnessing an intimate moment. He immediately felt ridiculous at the very thought.   

He cupped his coffee with both hands, the warmth a welcome break against the chill. He took a swallow and felt its heat bloom in his chest.

Gradually, the rain began to dissipate, although the sky was still a menacing dark gray, as if putting a warning out that it wasn’t quite finished. Hannibal stood suddenly, hand going to his pocket and pulling out krona bills, dropping them on the table. Alert, Will stood as well, readjusting his glasses and glancing as casually as he could out the window, hoping to catch whatever it was Hannibal clearly saw.

They grabbed their coats and bags right before Will’s heart began to hammer. Nervous, worried…excited? Reaching outside, Hannibal wordlessly pressed on, nary a glance in Will’s direction as he easily crossed the street without so much a look at traffic. Will began to follow before he froze, literally on the edge, toes teetering off the lip of the pathway. His hammering heart now began to skip and ache.

What was he _doing_? What was _wrong_ with him? He could run. Now. Turn and follow the opposite street. Head back in to the safety and warmth of the café. Make a phone call to… Who? How would he even begin to explain?

No, he was here. Following this man, a dangerous man, a man who had already cost him dearly. What would the final price be? 

Hannibal turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Will felt the panic well, nasty and tar-like against his ribs, before he bolted across the street. A BMW nearly clipped him as he reached the opposite end. A woman in bright yellow tossed him a rather nasty look as he brushed by her. Rounding the corner, Hannibal stood still just around the bend. Will nearly slammed right into him.

“Hannibal—“

“We're here,” Hannibal indicated, motioning toward a wooden door which held no sign, only a number. Looking back to Hannibal, the man held a look, such a _knowing_ look. Will snapped his mouth shut and focused on breathing. “He’s only just arrived,” Hannibal stated stepped up to the building.

The door let to a small, impressively decorated space. There were racks upon racks of fabric in all manner of texture and color. Several dress forms stood headless about the room. Will eyed several boards and tables, littered with loose threads and pins—a tailor’s workstation.

Turning, he lifted his eyebrows. “You are joking,” he said tightly, a bit baffled.

A large man appeared from a back area, hurrying through. He stopped, surprised, before smiling broadly at Hannibal. The other took a pace and the two men shook hands, exchanging pleasantries in their language while Will stood by, mouth agape.

Hannibal motioned, indicating Will. He watched as the man’s eyes narrowed, quickly taking in his outfit. There was a belittling glare he received at his clothes and Will felt suddenly small. Strangely humiliated and a bit offended. These were his clothes. His traditional and comfortable style, his last remaining vestiges of home. Clothes that had been kept and then provided to him by Hannibal.

The man bustled into the back once more and Will looked to Hannibal. “ _This_ is what we’re here to do?” Will asked, staring, incredulous.

“Were you thinking something far more insidious?” Hannibal replied, and there was a smile behind the eyes which caused Will’s to skitter away immediately, face heating.

“I thought…”

“Yes?”

Will shook his head, still reeling a bit. “Nothing.”

“I told you Will. A friend. Léon has excellent skill.” Hannibal smiled, small but sincere and Will swallowed hard.

The man returned, and the two spoke in swift Swedish and Will, still slightly detached, let himself be handled and led. They had him change into what he could only imagine to be an expensive, fitted suit, “A starting point,” Hannibal had murmured into his ear, before he was told to stand on a small platform in front of several mirrors. He stood still as large hands measured his body, a voice muttering below him, a yellow measuring tape fluttering about his frame.

Will didn’t think he’d ever hate mirrors as much as he did in this moment. Glancing up, he refused to focus on his own figure and instead looked behind him at Hannibal, feeling oddly soothed, before his body began to flush hot at the barely controlled look Hannibal returned.

Hannibal’s eyes were exceedingly dark and he watched transfixed as the man lifted a fist to rest it against his lips, as if wanting to shield his mouth. A very telling body movement, and so utterly obvious Will felt Hannibal wanted him to read it and understand it unequivocally. And of course Will did. He found himself wanting the man to bite at it, to cut into his own hand and draw blood. He had no idea why.

Léon disappeared once more and Will continued to stand, unsure if he was permitted to step down. Before he could even twitch, Hannibal began to approach. Watching the man, this man, stalk behind him from the mirrors, had his lizard-brain spiking adrenaline into his system, the soft hairs raising on his nape. As Hannibal arrived next to him Will forced his gaze downward. He was suddenly so apprehensive, hating the feeling of being so …exposed. He was hardly able to enjoy the moment of humor, holding nearly six inches of height over Hannibal from the small platform.

Wordlessly, Hannibal reached and placed a hand on Will’s waist, thumb pressing lightly into the dip of his hip where it met his thigh, stroking the fabric as well as his body. Will took a constricted breath, and Hannibal studied his face. So many moments in his life up to this point where he had found himself the complete focus of Hannibal’s penetrative gaze and utter attention. It was still so overwhelming. He currently stood swathed in expensive cream and olive-green fabrics, and yet he’d never felt more bare.

The tailor’s strip of measuring tape rested over his neck, the ends resting along his shoulders, tips hanging limply over his chest. Will watched as Hannibal reached with both hands, gripping the ends on both sides. He pulled at down at them and Will was suddenly forced to lean forward. Before he could even properly react, their lips connected

Will started, jerking back more out of reflex than any sort of panic. Hannibal gripped the tape and continued to keep him pulled as Will only briefly struggled to breathe out of his nose and gather his wits. Willing calm and collection, Will’s hands reached to the other’s shoulders, pressing, right hand curling around the man’s neck and Hannibal was forced to tilt his head back to reach a more thorough kiss, baring his throat. At the motion, at the submission, at this control he was being given, Will found it unbearably sensual.

It was a full kiss with tongue and teeth, but brief. Hannibal suddenly released the tape and took a step back, his mouth wet and face flushed. Will lurched nearly off the step, chasing his touch. Looking up at Will, expression significant, Hannibal licked his bottom lip.

“Lovely,” he stated simply. He gave Will a deliberate once-over, up and down his body. Will almost shuddered at the action. “I believe I have always held you in a higher regard than others, Will.” He motioned with his hand, “Now I can confirm it looks like I have quite literally placed you on a pedestal.”

Will snorted a laugh, the anxious, conflicted feeling up against his chest releasing just a touch.

They left the shop emptyhanded, with Will asking no questions. Hannibal had no doubt left Léon with the instructions he needed to create something custom for Will. He didn’t understand how much had been ordered, or even what, but he found he didn’t dwell on that for long.

There was certainly a significance to Hannibal’s action.  Fitting Will in luxurious clothes—it almost felt like settling in, staking more claim, edging slowly but surely toward something dangerously close to normalcy. 

Hannibal gave a wide wave out to the street, roads still slick with oil and shiny with rain. A cab pulled a U-turn to come alongside the sidewalk and Will opened the rear door and motioned. Hannibal gave him a curious look but a smile lurked as he accepted the gesture.

There was more fast Swedish and the bald driver gave a nod, pulling out into the street. He had no idea where they were going, but Will found himself in a very trusting haze.

They each looked out their respective windows, seemingly indifferent, but their proximity was scorching. Will risked a glance and his jaw tightened at Hannibal’s profile, unbearably sharp and elegant in the glow of the city.

The taxi stopped after nearly ten minutes and Will glanced up at the grand, opulent hotel they had arrived at. He shot Hannibal a look, as if to say ‘ _really_?’ and Hannibal chuckled as he began to exit.

He was beginning to feel once more withdrawn, apprehensive, as Hannibal spoke with the concierge. There weren’t that many people in the lobby yet he still felt like all eyes were on them. This was brazen, unwise and even irrational to be so obvious in their travels. However, he couldn’t help but listen to that small, trusting voice egging him onward. Prodding him to follow and to hold faith in Hannibal.

And he found he did. He really did.

They took a lift in silence, exiting on the top floor. Entering their suite, Will glanced around, walking and taking in its lavishness, impressed, before turning to face Hannibal.

It took two paces, three tops, before they reached each other.

They bit, kissing as if ravenous, and Hannibal was already reaching, already pulling out Will’s shirt from his pants. It was such an open, clear indication of his intent that Will pulled away, finding a pleasurable amusement in the muddled, almost frustrated confusion on Hannibal’s face.

“Bed. Now,” he stated and Hannibal didn’t even nod. He stared at Will before reaching for his face, Will not moving or flinching an inch, trusting, as the man’s fingers brushed his face. With a tender touch, Hannibal removed, and slowly closed, Will’s glasses. He placed them on the a side table with infinite care, before once more reaching, cupping his face, thumbs running through Will’s beard, over the top of his lips. He leaned forward and captured them once more.

It was Will’s turn to grasp, pulling at Hannibal’s burgundy coat, his white undershirt. Wanting it off. All off. Now.

On the bed, it felt equally real and unreal as they divested the final pieces of clothing. Hannibal’s hair fell flatly on his forehead, eyes focused as he briefly struggled to pull off a sock and Will found the act completely endearing. Hannibal’s body was muscled and lean, the entirety of him looking much younger without the clothes, without the pretense or posturing. On his back, pulling himself up flush against the pillows, Will motioned and Hannibal drew to him, mouths smearing as they connected once more.

They kissed, breaking out into moments where it felt much more like sharp bites, tasting each other and purely emotive. Will was hyper-aware of their nudity. Of the glossy sheen of sweat on their skin and how easily they now slid against each other. Fuck, it was good, their cocks hard and flushed. Penises seemed the least of their concerns, each of them wanting to touch each and every other part of the other. However, Will’s cock would at times grind hard against the belly of Hannibal in a primal, delicious sort of way.

Hannibal pulled back and motioned with his hand in a vague gesture, face flushed and eager, but still tightly controlled. Will hesitated, suddenly tense. “I’ve never—“

“I know,” Hannibal said, voice low. Naked and wholly unabashed by his nudity, Hannibal climbed off the bed, striding across the room and plucking his bag from the floor, swiftly searching. Will swallowed, lifting a hand to his face to cover his eyes, breathe struggling to now even out.

It felt like he was drowning at sea all over again.

He felt a hand suddenly brush his own away, letting it slip from his face. Will allowed Hannibal to soothe, more importantly allowed himself to be soothed, if only briefly. A ghost of a palm stroked down his beard and neck, before withdrawing. Lungs working properly, Will opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal, holding a small packet of lubrication in his hand.

Lifting his eyes, Will looked at Hannibal. He wasn’t sure if his mouth would work in this moment.

“What is it that you want, Will?” And looking into Hannibal’s eyes, into a man who had been stripped bare was both literally and figuratively, Will could see that for once, Hannibal didn’t seem to have any idea of the answer.

“You. Uh, hands…fingers.” He nodded, feeling a ridiculous, nervous smile twitch across his mouth. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Will turned to his side, fingers clutching the large, ornamental pillow. Slowly, Hannibal descended, sidling up behind him.

For the longest time, neither of them spoke. Hannibal simply set to, slicked fingers pressing against Will’s back, the dip of his lumbar, rubbing, massaging. Will pressed his head into the bedding harder, finally feeling relaxed, finally feeling _warm_. A hand lingered between his thighs before grazing gently over his sack, pressing against his hole. Will tensed, but Hannibal worked him, pressing and stretching, dipping the tips of his fingers in only to retreat and massage. Hannibal’s hands, his fingers, always knew the very best way to cut him open. And now, _now_ ,Will wanted, needed, a hand on his cock.

He reached for his dick and Hannibal nipped his shoulder, shaking his head. Reluctantly, Will dropped it, shifting his hand once more to the pillow, needing _something_ to fist and grip. He was suddenly about to speak, about to break this silence—

Hannibal’s slicked fingers abruptly pressed and pushed, fully breaching inside him.

Will sucked in a startled breath, hips jutting forward, cock slapping against his belly as the burn of pleasure, of being filled, penetrated. Hannibal stilled, letting him adjust to the sensation. Slowly, Will remembered to breathe.

“Have you been milked before, Will? By a woman? By anyone?”

What the hell kind of question was _that_? Will would have sputtered and stuttered out words in reply if he could have gathered his thoughts enough to respond with any. Instead, his body still giving out small and involuntarily thrusts, he shook his head, completely mute. There was no way any of this was going to last long, he knew. He was too keyed up, too long without tender touch.

Hannibal shifted, weight making the bed dip as he once more gathered Will in a more secure hold. He thrust his hips against Will, fingers slipping out and pressing back in creating a wonderful pull at Will’s insides. It had him squeezing the pillow, popping threads, holding his breath in anxious anticipation.

Hannibal steadied himself, and placed his palm on Will’s belly. Instinctively, Will twitched, tense and alert, as Hannibal’s fingers deliberately traced his scar— Hannibal’s scar, the one forced upon him in what felt like another life. He said nothing, simply giving it a rub, almost reverently, before he reached lower and gripping Will’s penis in a firm hold.

Oh Christ, _finally—_ Will thrust into that hot, ribbed palm, feeling his abs clench with his need. There was a surge, Hannibal plunging fingers deeper, his grip on his dick hard… almost painful. Will moaned out something unintelligible and he heard Hannibal murmur in response. Hannibal’s thumb swiped along his slit as more pre-come slowly slipped from its damp head.

“Oh my God…” Will managed to breathe out harshly. “Oh fuck, _please_ …”

“There… there…” Hannibal’s voice was low, his actions slow. Too slow, fucking hell, Will wanted to cry out as he felt the man’s hips flex, his fingers crooking inside him and others thumbing his head once more, letting his thick come seep unhurried, unrushed, milking his prostate, milking come from his slit down his shaft. _Jesus_ , he was going to die…. His body pulsed, buzzing low in his belly and between his thighs, through his dick and balls. The need was overwhelming and he pushed back against Hannibal’s hand, who simply maintained his pace. Will’s chest heaved as his cock slowly drizzled more come onto the sheets.

“Tell me…” There was a nip to his ear, a nose at his nape. He shivered. He ached, feeling filthy, debauched and still wholly unsatisfied. “Tell me what you need.” As if Hannibal didn’t know now…

“I want to watch…” Will took an inhale, stared directly into those bottomless, predatory eyes which burned back at him to the core. “…wanna watch you come apart. Want to watch…” He bucked again, squeezing his legs, his arms, his hands, wanting something to burst and _pop_. “…want you to taste me…” he murmured.

 _That_ garnered a response, Hannibal’s pupils blowing wide, whiskey brown entirely being swallowed by black. Hannibal swiftly released his cock, and Will looked down, staring at the man’s hand which was slicked in his come. Will’s penis bobbed to his belly, heavy and red, but he paid it no mind. He watched Hannibal’s hand lift to his own lips and Will followed it, straining to track it over his shoulder, not wanting to miss a single second, as those fingers dipped into Hannibal’s mouth.

“ _Oh my God_ …” Will moaned again, this time louder, watching Hannibal suckle his own fingers, suckle his come. Tasting him, _eating_ him…fuck. _Fuck_! He bucked again, urgent. He could come like this, just like this. Hannibal behind him, fingers inside him, Will’s come in his mouth, no hand on his dick but fuck, he could, he could come if Hannibal—

There was another surge, harder pushes and rougher touches as Will’s body was forced to lurch forward as Hannibal growled low, sparking something vicious in Will’s gut. Pressed against him, Will could feel Hannibal’s cock heavy and hard against his backside. Hannibal thrust his body, his cock, his fingers, all in, on and around Will.

It took no time, none at all, mere moments, seconds, before Hannibal shuddered, releasing, come roping in white stripes on Will’s back. Will cried out and followed, chasing it, always chasing, always following—two bodies, two men, always in tandem. He knew. He knew he would always chase this man just as clearly as he knew Hannibal would always continue to lead him.

Both their breaths were ragged, exhaling hard against one another. Silence stretched for many moments.

“You’ll come and stay with me,” Hannibal suddenly spoke quietly, breathing into Will’s skin, body suddenly tensing with surprise. As if he hadn’t meant to speak out loud.

“Where?” Will asked, closing his eyes.

“Does it matter?” Hannibal replied.

No, Will supposed. It really didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> [BelladonnaQ ](http://www.belladonnaq.tumblr.com)on Tumblr
> 
> Art by [Reapersun](http://www.reapersun.tumblr.com)
> 
> [We are currently running a multi-fandom prompt collection until 10/15/15 found here](http://belladonnaq.tumblr.com/post/130863517984/hey-guys-reapersun-and-belladonnaq-are-looking). Check it out for more info :)


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